


The Starbucks Guy

by hajiimee



Series: Press Play (And Bam, Everyone's Gay) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiimee/pseuds/hajiimee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobio had never liked coffee.</p><p>It was bitter. Always. No matter how many sugars you unloaded into the scalding liquid, it was never truly sweet. It was vile, and any variation – Latte, Cappuccino, Mocha, Americano – never ceased to make Tobio’s nose wrinkle, creasing at the bridge, and his lips twist into the very picture of disgust. The whole concoction was just one disaster after another, to be quite honest. </p><p>Yes, coffee was the source of all the world’s problems. </p><p>Maybe.</p><p>It was sort of a 50/50 toss-up between coffee and Shouyou Hinata.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**_[October, 2015]_ **

  
.

  
.

  
.

  
Tobio had never liked coffee.  
  
It was bitter. Always. No matter how many sugars you unloaded into the scalding liquid, it was never truly sweet. There was always that horrible, clinging aftertaste that wrapped itself around your taste buds in a thick, pungent grip. It was vile, and any variation – Latte, Cappuccino, Mocha, Americano – never ceased to make Tobio’s nose wrinkle, creasing at the bridge, and his lips twist into the very picture of disgust.  
  
And then there was the smell. Oh god, the smell. It hung heavy on your clothes, your skin, the fine hairs lining the inside of your nose. Even after tossing the drink ( _swill_ ) into the nearest bin you remained plagued with its memory for hours afterwards. It was like smoke, in that regard – unwanted but unrelenting in its pursuit of you.  
  
The whole concoction was just one disaster after another, to be quite honest. Disgusting in every aspect apart from appearance, which, not even Tobio could deny, was delicious, inviting, tantalising. It looked creamy – or at least, the adverts made it look creamy – betraying the evil that lurked within the confines of the cup, glass, mug.  
But then again, hot chocolate also looked creamy. Hot chocolate also looked delicious, inviting, tantalising; especially when topped with thick dollops of cream and sprinkled with chocolate powder. And, unlike coffee, it wasn’t the spawn of Satan himself. Hot chocolate didn’t ruin lives. Hot chocolate didn’t make people monsters – hot chocolate didn’t make people angry, vicious, rude. Coffee did.  
  
Yes, coffee was the source of all the world’s problems.  
  
Maybe.  
  
It was sort of a 50/50 toss-up between coffee and Shouyou Hinata.  
  
Though, Tobio was almost certain they were in cahoots; that they had planned that day, laughing evilly in the dark of Shouyou’s hotel room the night previous, before making love beneath the sheets. The perfect evil duo. The fact that coffee can neither laugh nor have sex was irrelevant, because there was no other explanation. It was just too convenient – too convenient that on the very day Tobio Kageyama gave in to the evil that coffee had tried to infect him with for so long, Shouyou just happened to be in the UK. Just happened to be in England, in London, in Holborn, and most of all, in the very Starbucks in which Tobio worked.  
  
Shouyou, the ‘Sunshine of the Internet’, who never went anywhere without his (stupid fucking) camera, poised and ready to film at any given moment. For example, the moment when Tobio snapped, unchained his tongue and set it loose on the pompous, rude businessman that had frayed the baristas last nerve for that day. Looking back, maybe he should have heard the obnoxious chime to Shouyou’s voice above everyone else in the shop – maybe he should have spotted the all too (unfortunately) familiar American accent amongst a sea of Londoners. And _maybe_ , just _maybe_ he should have heard the whispers of the girls in the queue, because they most definitely mentioned the name ‘Shouyou’ more than a couple of hundred times.  
  
But the fact of the matter was that he _didn’t_. He didn’t hear or spot _any_ of that. Because if he had, he wouldn’t be in his current predicament.  
  
Because really, people got angry about Starbucks orders all the time.  
  
People got pissy, blew up at baristas and had huge hissy fits about Starbucks orders all the time – it was practically a daily occurrence. Middle aged businessmen, snotty teens, stuck up women – barely an eyelid was batted anymore as the eloquence of the English culture flowed out through huge rants about the wrong milk or no cream, and barely suppressed rage because oh god, a name was spelt wrong. And in retaliation, baristas got equally as angry about customers all the time. Not all of them, granted, but there were many who snapped – many who got fed up with being treated like absolute dog shit and decided to stand up and say “Yeah, fuck this, I’m done” before storming out of there and never returning, maybe shouting a few obscenities as they made their exit.  
  
Which is exactly what Tobio had done, only, unlike the various baristas before him, he had had a lens poised and pointed at him throughout the whole thing, immortalising his (admittedly over the top) explosion, and leaving it plastered across every social media site known to man and achieving him the (much hated, detested, despised) title of ‘The Starbucks Guy’.  
  
So, yeah, Tobio had never really liked coffee.  
  
But now he fucking hated it.  
  
And Shouyou Hinata.  
  
“Hate’s a bit of a strong word, isn’t it? I mean, come on, you may not like me, but you can’t hate me.”  
  
_Especially_ , Shouyou Hinata.  
  
The look Tobio levelled with Shouyou was dark, his eyes narrowed into mere slits on his face and lips downturned into something stormy, the very pinnacle of annoyance. Black strands of hair hung menacingly in his face, and if it weren’t for the reindeer ears forced upon his head via a headband, he was pretty sure he would look downright terrifying. As it were, he probably just looked like Santa had docked his pay whilst giving Rudolf a raise. His words, however, were curt and sharp, their bite not at all reminiscent of the friendly woodland creature the headband attempted to make him out to be.  
  
 “Fuck off.”  
  
Shouyou just pouted in response, lips drawing together and eyebrows furrowing atop the bridge of his nose. He looked like a petulant child, and his height (the way he was poised on his tip-toes, propping himself up on the counter) just added to that image. The worst thing about the representation of expression and posture was that it meant that Shouyou wasn’t going anywhere, the stubbornness of a spoilt child running right through to the bone. And that meant _that_ Tobio was fucked.  
And that his job was in danger.  
  
(And possibly his sanity, but the threat of soap on a rope was enough to stave off the murderous intent for a little while longer.)  
  
“You’re making apologising really hard, you know.” Shouyou pressed, not showing even a hint of leaving. Tobio swallowed the strangled noise building at the back of his throat, aware of his boss standing just feet away, talking animatedly to a customer. Blue eyes, which had strayed to her position, drew back to face Shouyou, immediately thinning once more.  
  
“Well maybe I don’t want you to apologise.” He hissed, bringing his voice down in volume, ensuring that no-one could overhear their conversation and report him for being ‘unsociable’ (again) or for ‘repelling the customers’ (again). Shouyou, however, did not see the dangers in their discussion quite like Tobio did, his voice as loud and booming as ever.  
  
“Then what the hell do you want me to do? I’ve sent you like, a _gazillion_ peace offerings – which I’m certain you ate so don’t even _think_ about lying – and _just_ as many apology messages–”  
  
“Which are annoying, please stop that.”  
  
“–and now I’ve travelled like, well, a lot of miles just to come and say I’m sorry. There, _I’m sorry_ , Tobio. I was _wrong_. Now just say you forgive me so I can stop feeling like shit!”  
There was a pause, a pleading look swimming through Shouyou’s eyes. No, more like swirling in a vicious storm – like rapids. A whirlpool of longing for Tobio to just say ‘Alright, Shouyou, I forgive you for condemning me to a life of being called ‘The Starbucks Guy’, let’s skip through the park as the sun sets’.  
  
“No.”  
  
The strangled noise that Tobio had suppressed resurfaced, this time prying itself from Shouyou’s throat as the boy grabbed the counter, letting his arms carry his weight as he overdramatically  leant backwards. Really, everything about him screamed ‘I am actually 12!’ when in actuality, the boy’s real age was those numbers in the reverse order.  
“Tobio,” Said boy cringed at the drawn out, whinged version of his name, the sound like nails against a chalkboard in his eardrums. The rest of the redhead’s words were spoken in the same high-pitched, grating way, elongated beyond belief. “Stop making things difficult. Just forgive me already and let’s be friends.”  
  
“Friendship is the last thing I want from you.”  
  
“Then what _do_ you want from me? Because I’ve done everything I can think of!”  
  
Shouyou stood up straight once again, expression akin to that of a puppy that had been locked in the back garden, paws padding against the glass as it whimpered for entry. Luckily, Tobio was more of a cat person, his face remaining impassive to Shouyou’s pleas for forgiveness.  
  
“Yeah, you’ve done everything but _leave_.”  
  
Finally, Shouyou stopped moving, body remaining still as he stared at Tobio, gaze unwavering. Tobio shifted his weight, the urge to flit his gaze away and avoid eye-contact almost overwhelming.  
  
“Will that really make you forgive me?” The YouTube sensation asked, voice a decibel so soft that Tobio would have never thought it was possible for Shouyou to reach.  
  
“No.”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“Will it make you happy, then?”  
  
Tobio shook his head.  
  
“No. But it will stop me from wanting to smash my head through the glass storefront.”  
  
Shouyou seemed to consider that for a moment, head craning to look at the door behind him before turning back to Tobio. He looked as if he were hoping for the cashier to change his mind; to have a change of heart and welcome the very boy who had effectively _ruined_ his life _into_ his life. After a moment of silence, Shouyou gave a stiff nod, letting go of the counter and turning, heading towards the door. A sigh of relief was building up in the back of Tobio’s throat, ready to burst forth, his posture close to relaxing. Shouyou was so close, his hand outstretched, all he had to do was…  
  
His hand dropped and he turned round, new determination burning bright behind his eyes.  
  
“Nope, I can’t do it. I can’t leave things like this.”  
  
The sigh dissipated, morphing into a groan, and Tobio’s posture relaxed completely, which was more than he had wanted. His forehead collided with the hard counter, a thump echoing in his ears. He absently wondered what he had done to whatever may be out there to deserve this – to deserve coffee and Shouyou Hinata in his life.  
  
Turning so that his cheek was pressed against the counter, Tobio rolled his eyes up somewhat, so that he was able to see Shouyou – well, partly anyway. When he spoke, his words were a bit muffled due to how his cheek was squished between his skull and the countertop.  
  
“Why can’t you leave things like this?” He asked, tone flat and bored. He wasn’t interested in an answer, really, he had just resigned himself to the fact that Shouyou was relentless, and he was never going to leave until Tobio agreed to _something_ or at least feigned acceptance of the boys’ apology.  
  
“Because!” Shouyou exclaimed, acting as if that were a full sentence, taking a small pause before continuing, hands flying as he spoke in a whole manner of vague gestures that did nothing to further his point and _everything_ to further make Tobio question every minute detail of his life. “It’s not right! I upset you – badly – I need to make up for that! I can’t live with myself knowing you hate me.”  
  
“Try.” Tobio replied. Shouyou shook his head, slamming his hands down on the counter just centimetres away from the crown of Tobio’s head.  
  
“No! Just give me a way to make it up to you –” Tobio opened his mouth. “That’s _not_ leaving – and I will do it. Anything.”  
  
Blue eyes rolled in Tobio’s head, and he slowly dragged himself up off the counter, resting his elbow atop it instead and placing his cheek in his palm. He glanced at the time, and then thought of the price of the restaurant in Covent Garden market he’d always wanted to try but never had the funds to do so.  
  
He took a deep breath, and then exhaled.  
  
“Fine. Buy my lunch and I’ll forgive you.”  
  
Shouyou grinned, his whole face lighting up.  
  
“Deal!”  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
“Is ‘Buy my lunch’ American for ‘Mate, grab a bite with me’? Because I meant pay for me to have lunch. Alone. As in by myself. As in without you.”  
  
The streets were bustling with the crowd of midday Saturday tourists, routes blocked by figures halted mid-shitty-tourist-shuffle in order to take pictures of something that people in England didn’t even bother to wipe the bird shit off of. They had the flash on too. It was an all-around horrific sight to behold. Tobio was just glad that his new workplace was tucked away in the twisting backstreets of Covent Garden, as opposed to opposite Holborn station where he used to be stationed. Sure, it was only about ten minutes away by foot, but it made the world of difference. Tourists frequented Starbucks; tourists did not frequent an overpriced special effects makeup shop in a completed back-alley-esque street.  
  
Tobio’s trainers were white, Nike, and barely scuffed apart from the soles – nice, new, and clean. They were a complete contrast to Shouyou’s old ratty converse, the laces loose, frayed and dragging across the floor of the small alleyway between the back streets and Covent Garden. Said boy just hummed in reply to Tobio’s statement, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket as he glanced around. They came out just to the left of Covent Garden market, directly opposite the back entrance of the small parade of shops, and Shouyou spun round to face Tobio, coat flapping and grin wide on his face.  
  
“Well, eating alone would look weird, right? Especially in a tourist spot like this. Plus, I wanna make sure that you definitely, absolutely, one-hundred percent forgive me. And the only way to do that is to see this through to the end, right?” If there was one thing Tobio had learnt from his brief encounters with the redhead, and the snippets he’d seen of the boy’s videos on Youtube, it was that when he talked, he _talked_. It was loud, it was fast, and it was in chunks as big as the polar ice-caps.  Well, okay, maybe that was a bad comparison considering the polar ice-caps were melting and all, but the point was obvious.  
  
“Plus, you seem like the type to scam me for my money and then complain that the food was shit just to make me feel worse. Wow, you’re actually a pretty awful person you know tha- Ouch! Tobio!” Tobio’s hand had clamped down upon the top of Shouyou’s head in a vice-like grip, face blank in that way that screamed fury. Shouyou tried to pry Tobio’s fingers from his head, squeaking out apologies that eventually had Tobio relenting in his hold. Shouyou pouted next to him, massaging his scalp as they resumed their walk. “That didn’t disprove my point at all, you know.”  
  
“When are you going back to America?”  
  
“Rude.”  
  
Tobio dodged through a thicket of tourists, Shouyou barely keeping up with him as the taller boy weaved his way through the crowds, the route towards the shops one he knew all too well. There were a few market stalls just outside the entrance to the twin parades of shops, and they lured in just as many tourists as the _actual_ market did, which, to be honest, wasn’t too bad crowd-wise. However, it was just enough to create a stifling blockade between the streets and the shops, clogging up any and all pathways. At one point, Tobio had to look back when he heard a yelp, rolling his eyes as he reached out and grabbed Shouyou’s arm, yanking the small source of everything wrong with his life from where he was trapped. Shouyou muttered a small thanks in response, glaring at the tourists clustered behind him as he moved annoyingly close to Tobio’s side, prompting him to huff in disapproval.  
  
(He didn’t shove Shouyou away.)  
  
They passed the Moomin shop, which drew Shouyou’s fascination for a while, before Tobio crossed over into the adjacent parade, scanning the area for that expensive and decently fancy looking restaurant that resided there. His eyes locked on to it, and he moved forwards, the YouTuber on his tail tripping over himself and apologising profusely to the people he accidentally bumped into as he tried to regain the distance he’d somehow put between himself and Tobio. He paused when he saw the ‘restaurant’, raising one eyebrow before turning his head to face the boy he had found himself besides once again.  
  
“ _That_?” He asked, clear disbelief shining through his voice, furthered by the jutting of a thumb in the direction of the diner-esque setting. It was outdoors – no roof, no proper structure, just a rough fencing-like display to act like ‘walls’. “It just looks like an outdoor diner! And here I thought you were taking me to some fancy ‘England Only’ place. What a let-down.”  
  
Tobio just scoffed in reply, heading towards the entrance with Shouyou in tow, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.  
  
“Idiot. It’s in Covent Garden, so it’s expensive and probably really nice, alright? Stuff here is usually good.” There was a line leading towards the entrance, and Tobio peeked round to see how quickly people were being seated. “Plus, its English people making American food, so it’s bound to be better than whatever you have in Lardland.”  
“Okay, A) shut up, and B) looks like your ‘expensive and probably really nice’ American-knock-off restaurant appears to be a long wait. How long is your lunch break again? Guessing not long enough to get seated and eat and _also_ get back to work on time.”  
  
Tobio frowned, eyes narrowing as they glared at the front of the line, as if they had the power to make it move quicker and get them seated within the next five minutes. The ‘as if’ being an implication that, no, they do not have that power. Huffing through his nose in annoyance, Tobio leant back to his full height, no longer leaning off to the side to see the start of the line.  
  
“You’re right.” Shouyou’s face split into a grin. “Oh well, looks like you can’t make it up to me then. I guess I’ll hate you forever. Shame.” The grin dropped again.  
The redhead’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he watched Tobio begin to walk off, before he squared his shoulders and stomped after the other, resembling a child even more so than usual. He picked up his pace, matching Tobio’s speed so as to keep level with him – or, okay, maybe he wasn’t matching his speed. With his small legs he had to move a tad faster in order to keep up with Tobio’s long strides.  
  
“That’s not fair!” Shouyou protested, drawing the looks from a few passer-by’s. “Can’t we just go somewhere else? There has to be another place you want to go! Or we could come back tomorrow? I’m here until next Friday, so I’m more than happy to just reschedule.”  
  
“Nope. It had to be today. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”  
  
“Now you’re just being mean for the sake of being mean.” Tobio didn’t reply to that, and Shouyou frowned, face scrunching with the force of the expression. He picked up his pace even more, stomping to stand in front of Tobio, halting the other boy’s movements. Tobio flicked his gaze down to the redhead, and Shouyou froze, the urge to shrink in on himself under those blue eyes and that height almost overwhelming. Inaudibly, he swallowed the urge back, standing up straight in an act of bravery that he felt should be in a film. The small brave hero squaring off against the big mean baddy.  
  
Perfect.  
  
“What are you doing?” Tobio asked, eyebrows drawing closer together. Shouyou strengthened his resolve slightly.  
  
“Defying you.”  
  
“Defying me?”  
  
“Yes, defying you.”  
  
“Okay.” They stood in silence for a moment. A small crowd had gathered, consisting of roughly seven teenage girls, who were watching and whispering amongst themselves just a few feet away. “Are you done? Because you’re wasting my lunch break.”  
  
Shouyou opened his mouth to retort, when one of the girls broke free from the little gathering, tapping him on the shoulder and jarring his attention away from Tobio. He craned his head over his shoulder, meeting the eyes of a girl who looked no more than sixteen, possibly seventeen. She was shaking a tiny bit, seemingly nervous, but her eyes were bright behind thick rimmed glasses.  
  
“Shouyou Hinata, right?” She asked tentatively, and Shouyou’s frustrated expression eased into a friendly, bright smile as he confirmed her suspicions. At Shouyou’s smile, the girl’s own features relaxed, a smile pulling at her lips. “Could me and my friends get a photo with you? I’m really sorry for bothering you, but we’re really big fans and oh God you’re actually here and–”  
  
“I’d love to get a picture with you guys!” Shouyou cut the girls ramble off, his chest swelling with pride at the realisation he’d been recognised. It happened often, but it still made his stomach flutter with happiness every single time. The girl’s face split into a wide grin, and she beckoned her friends over as Shouyou turned to face her.  
  
It was a struggle to get everyone in, but they managed to do it eventually, the tallest girl holding the phone out. She took a few, before handing the phone back to the first girl, the owner, who cradled it like a new-born child, staring down at the picture in awe. Shouyou’s smile softened as the girls thanked him, complimenting his videos one more time before heading off, gushing amongst themselves. When they were gone, only then did he turn back to Tobio, mouth open and ready to make some quick remark about how jealous Tobio should be. It never left his lips, eyes settling on an empty space where Tobio had previously been standing.  
  
Fuck.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
“Are you officially stalking me now or?” Shouyou was in front of the counter again, just a day later. Evening was drawing in close, indigo swallowing the colours of the evening sky outside the glass storefront window. The digits on Tobio’s phone changed once more, the time creeping closer and closer to the end of his shift. If only that sweet freedom wasn’t blocked by a mess of ginger hair.  
  
“You ditched me yesterday.” Shouyou was pouting again, and Tobio wanted to smother the boys’ face with his hand. “I was just trying to make up with you and be friends, and you ditched me. You ditched me, a foreigner, in a new place, with new streets and new people. What if I had gotten lost and died, huh? Huh Tobio? What would happen then?”  
  
“Well we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would love to not be having this conversation.” Shouyou frowned, though still managed to retain his pout.  
  
“What crawled up your ass and died?”  
  
“You.”  
  
“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t so, you know, shut up.”  
  
“What a major burn there. I’m gonna need some ice.”  
  
Shouyou glared. Tobio glared back.  
  
“What time do you get off?”  
  
Tobio paused, blinking before looking flustered.  
  
“ _What_?” He asked, voice catching a bit. Shouyou just frowned again, doing some vague hand gesture as he spoke.  
  
“You know, what time does your shift end?”  
  
Tobio felt himself get even more flustered as he realised his misinterpretation, ears burning with embarrassment.  
  
“Oh.” He replied – simple. Short. “Why do you want to know?”  
  
“Because I’m gonna travel with you, duh.” Shouyou spoke as if what he was saying was obvious, before he stopped for a moment, eyeing Tobio suspiciously. “Why, what did you think I was asking?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Shut up, you were totally thinking something else. Tell me.” Shouyou pressed his hands onto the counter, leaning up and getting dangerously far into Tobio’s personal bubble. Tobio leant back in response, the crease of his brows tight and embarrassed, trying to scare Shouyou off but failing miserably.  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
“Was it something dirty?”  
  
“Fuck _off_.”  
  
“Oh my God, it was something dirty wasn’t it? Oh my, Mr. Kageyama I never would have tho–” Tobio forwent resisting the temptation and full on pressed his hand into Shouyou’s face, not only effectively cutting him off, but also causing him to splutter in surprise before letting out a whined ‘Gross I think I kissed your big sweaty hand’. This just prompted Tobio to press in harder, and Shouyou protested loudly, voice a pure whinge.  
  
Then, he pulled away. It was abrupt – sudden, and Shouyou made a disgusted face when the ‘big sweaty hand’ removed itself from the skin of his face. Footsteps squeaked across marble of the shop, the same white Nikes from the day previous almost blending in with the floor. A bag was thrown over one shoulder, and the bell above the door tinkled with the boy’s exit. Shouyou scrubbed at his face with his own hands before the bell pulled his attention to the front of the shop. He blinked – once, twice – before it dawned on him that yes, Tobio had just left. Again. There was another tinkle of the bell as Shouyou exited the shop, jogging to catch up with the other.  
  
“You have got to stop leaving me places. It’s rude.”  
  
“So is stalking.”  
  
“I’m not stalking you. Trust me, if I was gonna stalk anyone it would be someone like Chris Evans not a meanie from shitty old Engla– Ouch! Stop doing that!” Shouyou’s hands flew to his head once again, protecting his scalp as Tobio’s hand drew away, slipping back to holding the strap of his backpack. “What is with you and abusing me, huh?”  
  
“You’re annoying.”  
  
“Wow, your reasoning is flawless. Can’t fault it. I mean, that’s such a good reason to be violent with someone.”  
  
Tobio huffed, as he was wont to do, something Shouyou had noticed in their brief interactions. Tobio led Shouyou down a long street, past some old broken furniture outside of a weird shop. The wood was rotting, and plants were growing out of every available nook and cranny of an old piano. It looked like something you would find tagged as ‘aesthetic’ on Tumblr, and Shouyou found his eyes trailing along it, fascinated. Soon, they came to a road, and Tobio crossed, turning left and starting off down the street. They had come to an area Shouyou recognised – soon they would reach the Starbucks where they first met, and where Tobio used to work. And then, across from that was Holborn station.  
  
“Do you get on the Central Line?” Shouyou asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Tobio grunted an affirmation, and Shouyou rooted around in his bag, drawing out an underground map. “Can you catch the DLR to Custom House at any of the stations you pass on your way home?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Do you get Westbound or Eastbound?”  
  
“Westbound.”  
  
Shouyou nodded and trailed his finger along the map, looking for any places where the DLR overlapped with the Central Line. He stopped.  
  
“You can catch it at Stratford you liar.”  
  
Tobio said nothing, and Shouyou stuck his tongue childishly out at the back of the other boy’s head before that lapped into another bout of quiet. Their footsteps slapped against the pavement, and they stood side by side as they waited for the light to turn green at the zebra crossing. Shouyou glanced up at Tobio, who was staring straight ahead, and a part of his mind registered how this didn’t feel awkward anymore – how standing next to Tobio didn’t feel completely foreign and strange.  
  
The light turned green, and they moved, crossing the road and walking the short distance to the station. Tobio scanned his Oyster card whilst Shouyou fed the machine his ticket, and they headed towards the escalators leading down to the Central Line. They were in sync, steps timed as they made their way to the westbound platform, waiting just behind the yellow line until the right train came along. Tobio let the first train go by, but got on the second one, holding onto the overhead bar to keep his balance whilst Shouyou grabbed the one between the pane of glass and the door, unable to reach the overhead bar. Tobio was right next to him, sandwiching him in, and he almost face-planted straight into the other boy’s chest when the train started moving with a lurch.  
  
Almost.  
  
Luckily, he clung to the bar tighter at the last minute, managing to reaffirm his balance. The only sounds were the clattering and clunking of the train, and the occasional rustle of someone turning a page in a newspaper or book. For a brief period, there was muffled music from a boy who had nabbed the seat just on the other side of the glass panel Shouyou was leaning against, but he got off at Liverpool Street, leaving a dull silence in his wake. It wasn’t until the train doors hissed shut at Bethnal Green, and the train jerked into movement once more, that Tobio spoke.  
  
“Why are you so insistent on me forgiving you?”  
  
Shouyou slowly raised his gaze to look at Tobio, the other boy staring out of the scratched and fingerprint smudged window at the dark tunnel they were whooshing through. Shouyou didn’t have to think about the answer too carefully, instead giving a shrug of his shoulders, leaning his head against the glass panel. The shuddering of the train caused vibrations to travel through the boys’ skull, teeth clacking together uncomfortably to the point where he straightened up again.  
  
“I just don’t like the guilt, I guess.”  
  
“But you’ve met me now,” Tobio replied. “I’m not exactly the nicest person in the world. You still feel guilty? You don’t think I deserve it?”  
  
Again, Shouyou shrugged.  
  
“Nah – you’re probably only being a meanie because you’re bitter about what I did. If we had been in a different way, I don’t know, maybe we would have gotten along a lot better.”  
  
“Doubt it.”  
  
They approached Mile End and the train stopped, doors opening and people shoving and pushing to get off, before a few more bodies trickled into the carriage. The seats quickly filled, leaving Tobio and Shouyou to remain standing.  
  
“You’re really cynical, you know that?” Shouyou piped up once they were in motion again, picking up the previously dropped conversation. This time, Tobio glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, you’re so against me making it up to you, but maybe, you know, maybe, if you actually gave me a chance things would have been alright. I know I _did_ something shitty, but now you’re _being_ shitty when I’m genuinely sorry, and genuinely trying to make it up to you. I mean, I can understand you being angry, but now it just feels like you’re being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, and you being stubborn just makes me want to make you forgive me even more, because I’m also stubborn.”  
  
“You talk a lot.”  
  
“You don’t talk enough.”  
  
There was a twitch of a smile on Tobio’s face, and Shouyou blinked rapidly in surprise until the expression was gone once again, and the boy was left wondering whether he had imagined it or not. He didn’t think he did. No, he was sure he hadn’t imagined it, and a small smile of his own worked its way onto his face. The train lurched to a stop once again, and with a ‘ding’, the doors slid open, revealing the platform at Stratford station. Shouyou let go of the bar he had been gripping, hiking his bag up his shoulder before heading towards the open doors, following the crowd.  
  
Something warm wrapped around his wrist, and he stopped just before the entrance, eyes flickering from the fingers on his skin to the boy they belonged to. Tobio’s face was twisted in an expression that was undiscernible, almost as if he was fighting with himself to do what he was doing, still not entirely sure on his actions.  
  
“My new skype is Kageto – K, A, G, E, T, O.” His voice was tight, matching Shouyou’s previous assumption that, yes, he was still completely torn about whether he was doing the right thing. “I guess,” Tobio swallowed. “I guess grabbing a Nando’s with you wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
It took about 0.2 seconds for Shouyou’s eyes to brighten by a million watts, and a grin to break across his face. Tobio let go of his wrist slowly, and Shouyou just nodded enthusiastically, stomach fluttering. He hopped off the train, turning back to face Tobio when he was on the platform, noting how flustered the taller boy looked. Shouyou’s smile just widened.  
  
“It’s a date then, Tobio.”  
  
“It’s not a da–”  
  
A loud beeping cut him off, the door sliding shut with a hiss. From the other side of the glass, Shouyou winked and blew a kiss, his laughing face the last thing Tobio saw before the train began moving again. His ears burned, anger boiling in his stomach.  
  
How dare he, how _dare_ he, God he was going to kill that insufferable little–  
  
It was _not_ a date.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
‘ _Hi kageto I’d like to add you as a contact_.’  
  
Accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first installment for a series of oneshots revolving around a Youtuber-esque universe ('esque' in the sense that not everyone is a Youtuber, but they're linked to someone who is in one way or another haha). 
> 
> The series won't be in a linear timeline because I'm shit at that, hence the dating at the beginning of this fic, so it will jump around a bit, but if at any point anyone wants to know the backstory behind a certain fic, or the events leading up to the scenario in a certain fic, just message me on my tumblr (hajiimee.tumblr.com) and I'll be more than happy to explain something or note down that I should maybe write a fic explaining things lmao.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, Tobio Kageyama had been everything Shouyou was expecting.
> 
> He was a storm. He was meant to be a storm. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was–
> 
> “A fucking gorm.”
> 
> Shouyou stopped stabbing his Frappuccino, glancing up at his company. 
> 
> “A what?”

**_[December, 2015]_**  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
At first, Tobio Kageyama had been everything Shouyou was expecting.  
  
He was a storm – intense and dark and confrontational, his demeanour forcing people away, sending them cowering in their homes as his snapped words boomed through the sky, and his sharp glares pierced the dark in sharp, angular flashes. Tobio was so incredibly noticeable. He was tall, and attractive, all sharp, strong features. His hair was that dark midnight blue, his brown roots poking out from the crown, and his eyes were an exact pair to his hair. His skin held a natural tan to it, and he was just so easy to pick out and look at. At first glance, everything about him was powerful and bold, and everything Shouyou had anticipated. But somehow, that was wrong. Despite how physically he was 100% comparable thunder and lighting and fitful skies, it didn't fit. Because storms were loud and violent and all consuming, and upon closer inspection, Tobio was none of that. He was a subtle presence – one that seemed unsure of itself. One that felt unwanted, so it made itself unwanted. Shouyou could see it in the taut posture he maintained throughout social interaction – be it dealing with customers, co-workers, or Shouyou himself – and how he only relaxed when there was no longer a threat of conversation.  
  
He could see it in the mere second of hesitation before a snapped insult, wherein the he seriously contemplated his remark, the spite not natural, but forced. He could see it in the quick escape he made when they went to lunch, as well as the escape he had made when he became ‘famous’, whereas anyone truly cruel and cold-hearted would have bit the bullet, and taken the hits, and not hidden in the shadows. And most of all, he could see it in that brief moment when Tobio’s guard dropped, and he stopped Shouyou from leaving the train, expression hesitant and raw and his acceptance of Shouyou’s presence so reluctant and terrifying that it shone through in radiant waves of light. After that, Shouyou found those moments swallowing him up to the point that he lost track of them.  
  
At first, Tobio Kageyama had been everything Shouyou was expecting.  
  
He was a storm. He was meant to be a storm. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was–  
  
“A fucking gorm.”  
  
Shouyou stopped stabbing his Frappuccino, glancing up at his company. He blinked once, twice, confusion showing clearly on his face. After a moment, he spoke, not bothering to swallow the mouthful of creamy crushed ice and vanilla and talking around it instead.  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A gorm. Short for ‘gormless’, as in, you know, slow – stupid.” The boy spoke with a somewhat thick Liverpool accent, and he took a sip of his own coffee between his words, accompanying the silence with hand gestures as if they could speak fluently for him. “I mean, he’s like, really tall and he’s got one of those faces that just makes him look like a complete idiot.” Then, his eyes widened and he snapped his fingers, quickly swallowing his fresh mouthful so he could speak. “Constipated! That’s it. He looks constipated. Constantly frowning and scowling, like forming sentences actually hurts him.”  
  
Shouyou paused, and then he snorted, taking another slurp of the remnants of his drink.  
  
“Nice, Noya. Not exactly what I was going for, but nice.”  
  
“Sorry, but sappy poetry doesn’t sound good in Scouse. And sappy poetry doesn’t match him anyway. He looks like gorm, he is a gorm, and no fancy words or metaphors are going to change that.” Shouyou’s mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown – not bitter, or annoyed, but just as if he was contemplating things that frustrated him. Things like Tobio Kageyama. Noya watched him carefully, fingers tapping against the side of his cardboard cup.  
  
“I don’t know. He’s stupid, yeah, but I feel like that’s not all he is, ya feel me?”  
  
“Not one bit.” The reply was instantaneous and blunt, Noya’s expression deadpan. “I honestly don’t see why you’re so obsessed with him. He seems like right arse to me. I mean, look how much of a dickhead he was about a simple apology, why are you getting involved with a guy like that?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Shouyou repeated, letting his head fall so that his cheek was squished against the table. His eyes were directed towards the window. The sky was a dark mix of various grey tones, and little droplets of water speckled the glass. People passed by with umbrellas and coats, their movements fast paced as they hurried towards their destination and out of the wet. Shouyou sighed, the expression dramatic, and he closed his eyes. “At first I felt responsible. You know, for the hate he got, for him disappearing. Then, I felt determined, because he was so adamant to keep me away, and I don’t like to lose. Now I just don’t know. Because I’ve won, right? He caved, we went out to eat, and he gave me his Skype. That should have been the end. But we’re _still_ talking and now it’s two months later and I’m spending Christmas in England in his house. I don’t know how it came to this.”  
  
“You’ve been saying ‘I don’t know’ a lot.” Noya cracked a smile, reaching over and plucking Shouyou’s straw from his cup before flicking the cream on the end at his friends face. Shouyou flinched and scrunched his face in response, eyes opening afterwards so that he could give Noya a childish glare. “Oi, cheer up. You’re down for two weeks, and you’re only spending a week of that with me before heading down to London and out of reach once again. Don’t be such a Debby Downer.”  
Shouyou reached out and snatched his straw back.  
  
“I’m not being a ‘Debby Downer’.”  
  
“You so are.”  
  
“Am not.”  
  
“You are, and it’s annoying so stop.” Noya sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, tousling the bleached locks. There were still tints of the previous blue, the colour not having bleached out completely, and Shouyou wondered what colour his friend was going to have next. “You’re friends with him. That’s the gist of it, really. You’re friends with him, and you’re spending Christmas with him, and you like him.”  
  
“Yes, but _why_?”  
  
Noya scoffed.  
  
“How should I know? As I said, he seems like an arse to me.”  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Shouyou left Liverpool on the 21st of December.  
  
Leaving Noya was bittersweet. The sweetness stemmed from the fact that he was going to visit another friend of his (albeit one with who the friendship was still tentative) and bitterness because saying goodbye to someone you knew you couldn’t just pop and see was always heavy. It had your chest constricting, and your stomach churning it that way that seemed like a tickle, but unpleasant on a whole new level. Like having a want for something, but not knowing what, and not being able to satisfy it. Noya was one of the worst goodbyes, too – tied with Kenma. They both lived in awkward places, at least four hours from London by car, and rather expensive by train, and whenever Shouyou was in England for something, it was usually in the countries capital, and not for very long. Seeing his English friends was already rare enough, but seeing Noya and Kenma in particular was ultra-rare – two shiny cards out of thousands, with an appearance rate of 1%.  
  
On the train, Shouyou did some brief filming – snippets that he’d edit together when back in CA for a big, Christmas special. He’d done vlogs about his trips to England before, but he’d never been in the country for any months besides May and October, and then once in November when he was invited to a convention in Birmingham. He’d never seen an English Christmas, never been to a Christmas market, or experienced the decorations in London, and his track record for tourist attractions was weak, limited to the London Eye and Madame Tussauds. He had never had time for much else, and the one time he _did_ he’d spent it chasing down a certain asshole with a penchant for being unreasonably stubborn.  
  
Absently, he wondered whether Tobio would take him anywhere during their time together. It’s not like Shouyou had any events to attend, and his jet-lag had long since passed, so there was nothing preventing him from going out every day if he so wished. No _thing_ , anyway – there wasn’t no- _one_. Brown eyes watched blurred scenery whizz by, camera having gone into standby from having the playback paused for so long. His fingers tapped against the side, knuckles still covered by the support strap. He wanted to go to the London Aquarium, and he wanted to go markets, and he wanted to go to the London Dungeons – would Tobio take him to those?  
  
His train pulled into Euston Station approximately two hours later, and Shouyou switched trains, getting the Victoria Line to Victoria station. It was 12pm when he arrived, and he yawned, struggling to get his suitcase through the gates, wondering why he didn’t just use the disabled gates. It would have been a lot easier. He stumbled through, freeing his suitcase from the closing gates with a final tug. He blew a strand of ginger hair from his face, feeling suddenly a lot more exhausted than he had moments prior.  
  
Victoria was a large station, with shops, and restaurants, and little pop-up stands for Krispy Crème doughnuts and Café Nero coffee. Shouyou got a latte and found a seat, plopping down and shoving his suitcase under the table, his backpack being plopped on top. He pulled out his phone, checking his messages. Nothing new. The last message he’d received had been an hour or so before, which was Tobio asking when his train got in. Shouyou had replied, and there’d been nothing more since then. He locked his phone again, tapping his thumb against the glass surface in a repetitive pattern.  
  
He was nervous.  
  
He was so incredibly nervous.  
  
It had been a spur of the moment decision – Tobio had asked him to stay, and Shouyou was so caught up in the rarest question of all the rare questions that he hadn’t even hesitated, immediately agreeing. He’d been wired for the rest of that day, as if he’d won a competition. Tobio had invited him into his home for a week, and for Christmas no less. His mind had then run away with him, and he’d found himself making plans to stay for a week prior too, caught up in the fact that there was nothing holding him in a hotel room, meaning he could see his friends. It was only as the event drew closer that he realised that he’d been invited into Tobio’s _home_ for a _week_ , and for _Christmas_ no less. A week. With Tobio. Christmas. With Tobio. A _week_. With Tobio’s _family_. _Christmas_. With Tobio’s _family_.  
  
It seemed too soon. Their friendship was still new, fresh from the market, and suddenly Shouyou was doubting the past couple of months of talking. Skype calls were weekly, but there wasn’t a lot of talking in those – long bouts of silence that for some reason weren’t uncomfortable. They messaged each other a lot, but 90% of conversations were initiated by Shouyou. Maybe he was being stupid. Looking too deeply into everything. He had never felt like this when he first stayed with Noya, and that had been mere days after meeting him. So what was it about Tobio that through him into such turmoil? He thought back to his storm metaphor, and sighed, mouth slipping into a frown. His coffee had gone cold, left behind as his thoughts got ahead of him.  
  
“You’re frowning.” Shouyou snapped his gaze up, blinking in surprise. Tobio was standing in front of him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a Superdry hoodie, black with white lettering, and his hair had grown a bit shaggy since the last time they’d skyped. At Shouyou’s gaze, Tobio shifted, glancing away. “Am I late?”  
  
“Oh! Oh, no, you’re-” Shouyou fumbled to check the time on his phone. He’d been waiting about fifteen minutes. “You’re fine. I haven’t been waiting long.” Tobio gave a curt nod in reply, before reaching out and grabbing Shouyou’s backpack of the table, swinging it over his own shoulder. Shouyou’s eyes followed.  
  
“You hungry?” Tobio asked, fingers clenching around the strap of Shouyou’s bag. Shouyou once again raised his gaze to Tobio’s face. “Because Yo-Sushi had this Blue Monday deal, where loads of things are like, cheaper than usual.”  
  
“I’m always a slut for cheap shit.” Shouyou replied, and Tobio stared at him for a moment before scoffing, a smile quirking his lips.  
  
“You’re a slut for cheap shit, you’re a slut for nice skies, you’re a slut for dogs, and you’re a slut for toffee scented things. You really need to pick a better phrase.” Shouyou laughed, standing up and pulling his case from beneath the table, clicking the handle free and pulling it up. He picked up his coffee, dropping it in the nearest bin, before taking hold of his case.  
  
“You’re the one who introduced me to it, Mr. I’m Such a Slut for Hoodies.” Shouyou smirked, and Tobio rolled his eyes, beginning to walk. Shouyou followed him, case clattering behind him as he caught up to Tobio’s side.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d end up using it for everything.” Tobio said, adjusting Shouyou’s bag on his shoulder.  
  
“It’s catchy.”  
  
There was a Yo-Sushi in Victoria Station, just up the steps behind the Café Nero from which Shouyou had gotten his wasted coffee. Tobio helped him carry his case up the stairs, preventing the wheels from catching and getting stuck on the way up. They got two seats at the bar, and Shouyou watched the bowls go round and round on the conveyer belt, surveying everything. There was a button labelled ‘Help’ on the table, surrounded in a neon orange ring, as well as a little pot of pickled ginger and a bottle of soy sauce. As soon as they sat down, Tobio pulled something off the conveyer belt – a little blue dish.  
  
“The ones with the blue plates are only £2.70, but if you want something else you can order from the menu.” Tobio flipped the little paper menu over, revealing lists of hot food, along with more sushi options available to order. “If you wanna order something, press the help button and it’ll call someone over.” Shouyou nodded along, glancing the menu over before looking at what Tobio had plucked off the belt.  
  
It wasn’t sushi, but rather a cut up custard Dorayaki with a little pot of raspberry sauce. Tobio had already eaten one of the three slices, and he noticed Shouyou’s gaze. He slid the plate over a bit, a silent offering for him to have a bit, not stopping in his explanation of how things worked, explaining what each colour plates price was, pointing out the little key that Shouyou could refer to in order to double check. Shouyou took a slice of the Dorayaki, dipping it into the tiny pot of sauce. Tobio was close, his arm brushing Shouyou’s own as he explained things, and Shouyou could smell his cologne.  
  
He smelt nice. Sweet.  
  
The nervous butterflies in his stomach began to settle.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.

.  
  
Tobio’s front door was green, which was odd. Shouyou had expected blue.  
  
It was probably because of the hair, and the eyes, but blue just seemed like Tobio’s colour. Shouyou figured that anything significant connecting to Tobio was blue, so it was unsettling to see the entrance to his home, to the place where he spent the majority of his time – the place where he slept, ate, showered, and lazed around – painted in a bottle green. A bit lighter than a wine bottle, perhaps more like the leaves on an oak tree. His front garden was small, and overgrown, weeds and grass snaking up in too long tendrils. The wall separating the garden from the street was small, the bricks oddly coloured and loose in some areas, and the gate leading through them was peeling and crooked, needing a good jerk to get it to creak open.  
  
Shouyou’s suitcase jumped over the uneven pathway leading to the door, and he yanked it up the little porch step whilst Tobio inserted his key into the lock. He shouldered the front door open, entering and holding it open for Shouyou with his foot. Shouyou pulled his case inside, looking around in curiosity. The walls were cream, marks easily visible. Just about a foot in, on the left, was a door leading into the living room. Shouyou’s eyes were drawn to the doorframe, a set of pencil marks marring the surface, different measurements and ages written beside them. Tobio’s height as he grew up. Shouyou smiled.  
  
The door closed, letterbox clattering as it did so, and Shouyou tore his eyes away from the remnants of Tobio’s childhood. Said boy plopped onto the stairs, which were almost exactly in front of the door, and began to undo the laces of his shoes, slipping them off and tossing them down into a pile of other shoes. They were the same white Nike’s he’d been wearing the last time they’d seen each other, only they were significantly less white than they had been those two months ago, the laces frayed and the toes scuffed beyond repair. An obvious favourite choice.  
  
“Where should I put my stuff?” Shouyou asked, and Tobio looked up at him, removing his other shoe and standing up, grabbing Shouyou’s backpack. He didn’t sling it over his shoulder, this time, merely holding it by the strap and letting it dangle at his side.  
  
“Upstairs. We’ve got a spare room you can stay in. Mum spent all day cleaning it out and shoving all the stuff in there up the loft.” Tobio held out his hand for Shouyou’s suitcase, and Shouyou handed it to him. Tobio pushed the handle down, before grabbing the shorter one and lifting it up, taking it up the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you. It’s a really small room, but it’s fine, we won’t be here much.”  
  
Shouyou raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You have plans for us, then?”  
  
Tobio paused, stopping a few steps from the landing of the second floor.  
  
“Yeah? I mean, didn’t you say you wanted to go out? London Aquarium and that.” Doubt filled blue eyes, Tobio’s face settling into an uneasy look. “I didn’t get that wrong, did I? ‘Cause we can do something else if you want.”  
  
Shouyou shook his head, face splitting into a grin.  
  
“Nope. You got it spot on.”  
  
Tobio relaxed.  
  
“Oh. Good.”  
  
Tobio hadn’t been lying when he’d said the room was small. There was a bed, some drawers, and then about three feet of free space. It was tiddly, tiny, and ridiculously small, but it had been prepared beautifully. The sheets on the bed looked new, and there were towels draped over the radiator. Everything looked spotlessly clean, as if it were a part of one of those model homes, or a dollhouse. Shouyou whistled.  
  
“Your mom really prepared, didn’t she?” He said, looking at Tobio as he rested the suitcase against the wall, placing the backpack on the chair that was tucked into the corner. He glanced round, giving a small, sheepish smile. Shouyou had thought that Tobio’s smiles were rare, once upon a time – he’d quickly realised that they weren’t. They were just small, and you had to be careful to catch them, and know just what to say to bring them out.  
  
“Yeah, she’s really excited about you coming here. So I apologise in advance if she jumps you. She’s kinda weird.” Tobio raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face from where it had fallen in his eyes. It really needed a trim.  
  
“Like mother like son then,” Shouyou remarked, lips curving into a smirk, and Tobio scoffed. Downstairs, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by a series of barks. Shouyou looked over his shoulder, in the direction of the stairs, and Tobio did the same. “I take it that’s Jack?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s Jack.” Tobio replied. “And my mum. I thought the house was too quiet. She must’a taken him for a walk. Do you wanna meet him?” Shouyou’s smirk stretched into a grin, and he looked back to Tobio.  
  
“Well, I am a slut for dogs.”  
  
“Yeah, because that’s not illegal at all. I can’t believe I’m friends with a furry.”  
  
The word ‘friends’ echoed in Shouyou’s mind, as if bouncing off of the inside of his skull, and the butterflies in his stomach ceased their movement completely, the fluttering that had begun to ebb coming to a sudden standstill.  
  
“Yiff-yiff motherfucker.”  
  
Tobio’s smile widened and he looked away, shaking his head fondly before he moved, grabbing Shouyou’s head in a firm grip and shoving him out of the door, back onto the landing and towards the stairs, careful not to actually push him down the stairs.  
  
“Don’t yiff my dog, that’s disgusting.”  
  
“I guess I’m disgusting, then.”  
  
Shouyou laughed, taking the stairs two at a time, Tobio right behind him. It sounded like thunder, the steps of two twenty-one year olds on wood not a soft sound in the slightest. The clicking of paws over laminate flooring soon joined the ruckus, along with loud, deep barks, and Shouyou’s attention was immediately captured by the appearance of Jack, Tobio’s dog. He was so much bigger in real life than on Skype, and seeing him without pixilation just made him ten times cuter. He was a golden retriever, and he looked like he was always smiling. His fur was a fair cream, hanging at his side in like he was draped in a silk blanket. His mouth hung open, and he lifted and dropped his paws, tail wagging behind him. He barked again. Shouyou bit his lip, dropping down to sit on the stairs and holding out his arms. Jack came immediately, snuffling around Shouyou’s face as the ginger haired boy took hold of his face, ruffling his fur. Shouyou felt Tobio stop behind him, before he was nudged with the boys’ foot.  
  
“Oi, don’t just stop on the stairs. Other people need to get down.”  
  
“Sorry, Jack’s more important.”  
  
Tobio nudged him again, before climbing around Shouyou, jumping over the banister. He headed into the kitchen, and there was the sound of clinking glass and rustling bags. Amidst it all, Shouyou could just about hear the sounds of voices – Tobio’s and a woman’s, the latter most likely belonging to Tobio’s mother. Shouyou peered through the banisters, hands still buried in Jack’s fur. The dog was panting, breathing fast and happy. Tobio re-emerged from the kitchen, but stayed in the doorway, holding onto the door frame.  
  
“Hey, want a drink?” He asked, and Shouyou looked up at him before nodding, standing and moving, manoeuvring his way around Jack and then dusting the hairs from his jeans and shirt. Jack followed him as he walked into the kitchen, Tobio just a couple of steps in front.  
  
Tobio’s mum was tall, looking around 5’8. She was a plump woman, stomach pudgy and rolls showing through her t-shirt. Her complexion was the same as her sons, but her hair was a sandy brown, much lighter that the roots peeking through the crown of Tobio’s head. She had the same dark blue eyes, same lips, but a much rounder, plumper face shape. She smiled at Shouyou as he entered the kitchen, teeth showing and expression completely open and unguarded, a stark contrast to Tobio, leaving Shouyou unable to determine whether they looked alike, or whether they didn’t.  
  
“Shouyou, my mum – mum, Shouyou.” Tobio’s introduction was lacklustre to say the least, and he eased passed his mother to get to a cupboard above the bench, pulling out two glasses. He then looked over to Shouyou, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want?”  
  
Shouyou felt caught between answering Tobio or greeting the boys’ mother. He settled on the former, before quickly divulging into the other.  
  
“Got any coke?” He asked, before smiling at the woman in front of him. He raised his hand in a somewhat awkward wave. “Hi,” He said. “Thanks for having me. Sorry to impose on your over Christmas.” He gave a nervous laugh. It felt weird that he was able to record himself talking to a million people he had never even seen, yet when faced with one woman he became unsure of himself. He supposed that was the effect of parents.  
  
Tobio’s mum made a ‘pfft’ sound, waving her hand through the air.  
  
“Don’t give me all that. Trust me, Shouyou, if I didn’t want you here then you wouldn’t be here. The fact that you’ve made it through the door means you’re not imposing at all.” She turned away, continuing to unpack her shopping. “Besides, how could I refuse a friend of Tobe’s? He don’t got many, you know.”  
  
The use of ‘don’t got’ had Shouyou cracking a more genuine smile, and he glanced over to Tobio, whose cheeks had tinted red from his mother’s words. He saw the boys’ elbow jut out, jabbing his mother’s arm. The woman laughed.  
  
“What?” She continued. “You know it’s true. But anyway, Shouyou, where are you from? I’m not all that good at picking out accents. Especially American ones. Some of them are so similar it just ‘whoosh’,” She raised one hand, sliding it over the top of her head, a few centimetres away from her scalp. “Goes right over my head.”  
  
Like Tobio, she missed the ‘h’ off of a lot of her words, leaving things such as head as ‘ead instead. The two of them did the same thing with words like ‘them’, dropping the ‘th’ to make ‘em. They were subtle things, but compared to how Noya spoke they were stark differences, and Shouyou enjoyed picking them out. Like little keys he had to uncover.  
  
“I’m from North Carolina originally.” Shouyou spoke, grinning down at Jack when the dog brought him a slipper, dropping into a crouch to try and wrestle it from the dog’s mouth. He looked up to Tobio’s mum as he spoke to her, though, not needing to look at Jack to play with him. “I live in California now, though. San Francisco. I live there with a friend of mine.”  
  
“You live in California yet you’re spending Christmas in Hainault?” The woman whistled. “What Tobe’s blackmailing you with to get you to do that?”  
  
“Nothing. Shut it.”  
  
“Oi, watch your mouth. We have company.” The woman huffed, but there was a smile on her lips, showing her lack of care at her son’s words. “You and Tobe’s are the same age, aren’t you? Yet you’re already living on your own. Hear that, Tobe’s? Move out already.” She plopped a bag of ice on the table, sliding it to Tobio, who grabbed it and opened it, pulling out a few cubes to drop into their drinks.  
  
“If I move out I’m taking Jack, though.”  
  
“As if. Jack stays with me. You can’t ditch your poor old mum and leave her all on her own. I need that dog. For warmth, for company, whilst my only child explores the world.”  
  
“You’re the one who told me to move out. Don’t complain.”  
  
Shouyou smiled at their interaction, before standing up as Tobio held out his glass. He took it, leaning against the bench and taking a sip of the carbonated liquid. He let his eyes wander, slowly taking in the layout. There was a bench going up the right wall, bending to fit along the back wall too, before giving way to glass doors that lead into the garden. On the wall to his left was a metal white board, pens dangling from the sides. A shopping list was written on the silver surface, surrounded by pictures held up by magnets. Shouyou pushed off the bench, moving to look at them. Pressed his lips together, chewing on the inside to stop himself from breaking into a wide grin.  
  
The first picture was of a child, no more than three. His hair was flat to his head – like a mop – with only a few stray strands poking up at almost impossible angles. He was in a nappy and t-shirt only, and his mouth was slick with spit and melted ice lolly, the remainder of the lolly, branded Calippo, still held in his house, little fat hands struggling to hold onto it. He was sitting on the stairs, blue eyes looking away from the camera. The second photo was the same child, but older, about eleven. He was in swimming trunks on the beach, one leg in front of the other, and body angled as if he’d just thrown something, his arm still in the air. It was blurred, as was the object he’d thrown, but the puppy caught mid motion running after it made Shouyou assume it was either a stick or a toy of some kind.  
  
There were many more, all of the same boy throughout his life – sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with his mother, and sometimes he was with other kids. There were some obvious old friends, and then some others that were too similar in appearance not to be related in some way.  
  
It was a timeline of Tobio’s life.  
  
It was adorable.  
  
“Ms. Kageyama, you should be proud.” Shouyou said, voice soft. “You raised a really great kid.” He looked up into Tobio’s mothers face, soft smile on his face, and eyes gentle. The woman looked at him in surprise, before she burst out laughing.  
  
“He comes out with some proper sweet things, huh?” She said, shaking her head. “And Shouyou, call me ‘Marie’. Ms. Kageyama is way too formal. Makes me feel like that little bitty down the road, or a teacher. I’m neither.”  
  
“Keep telling yourself that, mum.”  
  
“Tobio Samuel Kageyama, I will have you know that I am a woman in the prime of my life, bedding many a love and–”  
  
“That’s grim, please don’t.”  
  
Marie laughed again, a big booming laugh that shot straight through you in a million vibrations. As if you were standing on ten amps, a bass-heavy song pounding through them. It made Shouyou feel warm and comfortable, and less like a foreign intrusion into her home. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked back to the whiteboard. With the hand not holding his drink, he reached up, plucking one of the more recent photographs from the board. It was a family photo, probably from a birthday of some sort. Marie was wearing a low-cut purple dress with elaborate eye-makeup, and she had a glass of wine in her hand. Tobio was next to her in a collared t-shirt and black jeans, holding a beer. His mums arm was looped with his own, and another boys’ arm was thrown over his shoulder. Others surrounded them, at least seven people cramped into the photo, both women and men.  
  
Tobio was laughing, a bright smile tearing across his face.  
  
Shouyou tightened his grip on his glass, glancing over to Tobio and Marie, who were back to playfully bickering, Marie bumping her hip against her son’s and sending him stumbling a bit, prompting him to send her a sharp, but not malicious, glare. She laughed in response, clearly un-phased.  
  
Shouyou looked back to the photograph once again before putting it back into his place.  
  
Noya was right, Shouyou did like Tobio.  
  
And he was beginning to figure out the reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super fucking late because 2015 was shit but now it's gone so eyyyyyyy
> 
> I've decided to make this a chapter thing with a more linear timeline, instead of lots of oneshots, and the main pairing will be Kagehina with a fuck ton of side pairings and side stories because i'm so weak im so so so weak
> 
> I can't be assed to do a glossary so if there's anything you need clearing up then hmu i'll be more than happy to explain shit
> 
> my tumblrs: hajiimee.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment for a series of oneshots revolving around a Youtuber-esque universe ('esque' in the sense that not everyone is a Youtuber, but they're linked to someone who is in one way or another haha). 
> 
> The series won't be in a linear timeline because I'm shit at that, hence the dating at the beginning of this fic, so it will jump around a bit, but if at any point anyone wants to know the backstory behind a certain fic, or the events leading up to the scenario in a certain fic, just message me on my tumblr (hajiimee.tumblr.com) and I'll be more than happy to explain something or note down that I should maybe write a fic explaining things lmao.


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